


This Means War

by Carukia



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8260078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carukia/pseuds/Carukia
Summary: Gavin is excellent at reading people, and learning about who they are. Part of why Gavin is so good at this is because it puts him in control of people, and Gavin loves to be in control of people.Ryan is a genuinely nice person. His Vagabond persona is just that – a mask, a costume – and Ryan does so much just to make people happy or, if nothing else, just to not make them feel bad. He gives up a lot of the control that he wields as The Vagabond when he’s just being Ryan, but desperately wants to hand that control to someone else.It works, really well. Naturally, Gavin fucks it all up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> At this point, I think people just assume my stuff is titled after a Mariana's Trench song. This one is no different.
> 
> Something simple I wanted to get out there while I work on very large, multi-chaptered works, and because I love Ryan and Gavin fighting about everything.

# This Means War

 

When Geoff wanders in to the penthouse’s main living room, Gavin is halfway to actually winning a Halo match. Geoff is adjusting his tie – the red one, Gavin briefly notices through his gameplay, to impress people – and frowning. “Last chance, Gavin,” he says. “You sure you’re not coming?”

Gavin sighs, and glances up at him from where he’s slowly slumped further down on the sofa. Geoff certainly looks like he’s put in a whole lot of effort for this night – his sleeves are carefully rolled to the elbow to show off his ink, he’s trimmed his facial hair, and Gavin picks out what he’s pretty sure to be concealer dabbed under his eyes to smooth them out and try and hide the ever-present bags. “Why would I want to go to a stuffy mob-boss party anyway?” he asks, looking back up to the screen.

“Everyone is going, and it’s a _very_ important networking event, and so is vital to, oh, I don’t know, your job?” Geoff reminds him, except Gavin is pretty sure the only reason the rest of the Crew are going is because first, Geoff told them to, and second, Jack threatened the lot of them when they declined.

“Networking,” Gavin scoffs. “That’s yours and Lindsay’s jobs. Call me when you need to get the cops’ files on someone, or break into their servers or somethin’. You know, the fun stuff.”

Geoff is silent for a while, watching Gavin throw away his lead and piss the whole game away. As soon as Gavin curses and lightly throws the controller away from himself onto the floor, Geoff hums. “The Vagabond is going to be there.”

Gavin’s breath stops and lodges hard in his throat, and he shoots his eyes up to him. Geoff’s arms are crossed, an eyebrow raised. “Ryan is coming?”

Geoff shrugs. “That’s the rumour,” he replies. Gavin swallows heavily. His mouth is suddenly dry, and when he licks his lips it feels like sandpaper. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Ryan, and even though he doesn’t think Ryan will want to see him in return, Gavin does, desperately. His stomach flips and his heart pounds, and they might not stop, Gavin reasons, until he’s at least tried. “Buuuut,” Geoff is saying, “you’re right, it’s just a stuffy mob-boss party, why would that change anything? Guess we’ll see you when we get home,” and he turns to leave. Gavin jumps to his feet and points right at him.

“Do _not_ leave without me, Geoffrey,” he orders, and runs.

When Gavin gets to his room and throws open his closet, he finds every piece of clothing he could wear to be wrinkled. Quickly, he flips through his suits, but he has no idea what to wear. Normally when Gavin goes on a job, every single part of him is carefully selected and planned – everything from shoes and socks to which way his hair is parted – because every single detail counts. Some days he needs to be the alleged second-in-command of the most powerful Crew in Los Santos. Some days he needs to be a bumbling British idiot that no one will watch their words around. Some days he needs to be the wide-eyed innocent adopted son of a Crew boss, there to be protected, for people to let their guards down around.

Tonight he needs to be Gavin, with whom Ryan has a history. Gavin, who makes Ryan’s heart race and blood boil, and who is in control in every way until he demands otherwise. Tonight he needs to make Ryan remember every laugh, every argument, every snarky comment and every stupid question, every single moment they spent together. Tonight he needs the most important costume of all.

In the end, Gavin pulls on a slim black suit and black shirt, and slips a gold tie around his neck. He runs some gel through his hair to tousle it, and after some silent debate he grabs his gold sunglasses from his bedside table and props them up on the top of his head, and then runs to the penthouse elevator to meet Geoff in the garage.

Geoff is glancing at his watch when Gavin finally climbs into the car next to him. Michael is suited up and behind the wheel of the car – as always – with Lindsay sitting up front with him. Gavin spreads his arms – or, as much as he can in the back seat – and grins wide. “How do I look?”

Michael glares at him in the rear view mirror. “You look like an asshole.”

Gavin’s jaw drops, and he puts a hand over his heart in mock hurt. “ _Michael_!” he laughs. “Michael, why?” Michael shrugs.

“Trying a bit hard there, aren’t you kid?” Geoff adds. Gavin scoffs.

“Well, you look like the bouncer at a shitty nightclub, and Michael is only wearing what Lindsay told him to anyway.”

“Yup,” Michael says proudly as Lindsay bursts into laughter, and slowly pulls out of the garage to get them on their way. Gavin stubbornly doesn’t say anything more to them the entire drive – although Geoff is scrolling through his phone and Michael and Lindsay are happily chatting away to themselves anyway – but he does readjust the knot on his tie, and he does tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, and he does fiddle with his gold cufflinks.

The event is being held in the massive ballroom of a hotel downtown. Gavin doesn’t know who organised it, whether it was a crew boss or just a friend with a lot of connections, and it’s likely Geoff had told him and Gavin just hadn’t cared. In any case, whoever it was must have a decent enough relationship with Geoff or Lindsay or both, or the Fake AH Crew would in no way have turned up. Michael pulls the car up to the front of the hotel and lets them all out while he goes to park. Neither Lindsay or Geoff make a move to go inside, leaving Gavin standing awkwardly with them, impatiently shoving his hands into his pockets. Geoff catches the movement.

“Go inside, then,” he mutters, and Gavin frowns.

“What about you guys?”

Geoff rolls his eyes immediately. “Really? Don’t be a baby. Go inside and find Ryan or whatever. We’ll wait for Michael.” Gavin glances to Lindsay, who is very carefully concealing a smirk while she checks her makeup in a tiny compact mirror she has pulled from her bag. He glances back to Geoff, who jerks his head towards the hotel. “Go.”

So Gavin goes. There are signs in the hotel pointing towards the ballroom, and Gavin carefully follows these. When he arrives, the ballroom is already very full, and the people nearest the entrance carefully glancing at him makes Gavin think he has made a horrible mistake. Most of these people he doesn’t recognise, though he sees more than a few he knows the name and details of – members of friendly and rival crews alike – but every single one of them recognises him. Here walks Ramsey’s Golden Boy, with his gold hair – darkened though it has in recent years – and his gold glasses and his gold lifestyle.

Immediately and desperately, Gavin wants to leave. He wants to find Michael and beg him to drive him back to the penthouse where he can hide himself away from the sheer number of people who know of him, and who are all crowded into the one room. Then, of course, he remembers why he’s here, and realises this part is just another job – to see and be seen, but to be untouchable, and he knows how to work with that.

Distantly, Gavin can see Jack and Jeremy across the room, so he tilts his chin up, slips his tiny smirk onto his face, and heads into the crowd to reach them. Most people part to let him through without a second thought. Some are resistant until he stops in front of them, eyebrow raised, and when they look at him they jump to move. No one really knows what Gavin Free of the Fake AH Crew _does_ , exactly, but they do know he’s very close to Geoff Ramsey, and woe betide anyone who crosses that man.

Jack looks at him in surprise when Gavin slides up beside her, but she recovers quickly and moves to snag a flute of champagne off a waiter’s tray and pass it to him. “Didn’t expect you,” she murmurs while Gavin sips. He doesn’t look too hard at her – though she’s come out dressed to the nines – and instead starts scanning the crowd. “Did Geoff tell you about Ryan, then?”

Gavin chokes a touch on his champagne, and does turn to glare at her. “Did you all bloody know?” he hisses when he catches his breath. Jack snorts softly just as Jeremy steps in closer, hands holding a plate loaded with finger food.

“Well, no one _knows_ he’s coming, but that’s the rumour,” Jeremy cuts in, shrugging. Gavin is already getting sick of rumours.

“Do you think he’ll actually turn up?” Gavin asks before he can stop himself, and Jack smiles gently.

“I don’t know. It’s not really his style to start a rumour before he arrives, is it? I think he’d prefer to just appear and cause a fuss.” The worst part, Gavin thinks, is that Jack is probably right, because she’s always so good about stuff like this and has hosted enough charity dinners and events of her own to know who shows up, when, and how. And now that Gavin is here, he feels foolish, because of _course_ Ryan won’t come. Parties like this, with crowds and enemies and alcohol, they are by no means Ryan’s preferred kind of night.

There’s a brief awkward silence while Gavin figures all this out before Jeremy cuts in again. “But I mean, Gavin is here.” He takes a bite out of a mini-hotdog and chews for a second before saying around it, “Bet no one expected that.”

Jack looks at him in surprise and takes a very long, slow sip of her own drink. “Got me there,” she finally admits, and Gavin feels a scrap of hope flare up in his chest again. He turns back to watch the floor. It’s too early in the night for people to be dancing, so the crowd mingles in groups, sipping drinks and eating hors d’oeuvres, merely talking. “Go wander,” Jack encourages him, so Gavin raises his champagne flute in a salute and slips into the crowd.

Mostly, Gavin manages to avoid people stopping him as he walks. In part, he thinks, that’s because of the way he’s walking – chin high, clearly looking for something, eyes easily gliding over those people he deems unimportant. Ignoring some people would cause the Crew trouble – like the lads who helped him and Michael out on a recent take, or the friend of Geoff’s who Gavin had helped chase down a missing member of their own crew – and so when these people call his name he pauses and slaps on a winning smile and gives them almost all of his attention for a few minutes.

At some point, a small group – men and women – catches him and starts asking him about his tailor, his hairdresser, people who have something to do with the way he looks. This is all terribly inane and dull, and Gavin tries to laugh off the questions and half-heartedly flirts with one or two to keep their opinion of him positive, but his eyes keep searching. Then, to his right, the crowd moves around just enough, and Gavin sees him. From across the room, Gavin watches as Ryan half-chuckles at something said to him, and then his head turns and his shockingly blue eyes lock with Gavin’s.

Gavin’s heart is in his throat, lips parted in surprise, his lungs have seized up, his blood rushes hot and cold. The moment seems to last forever, neither looking away, and while Ryan’s expression tells Gavin he’d been expecting this – smug bastard – Gavin’s decidedly does not.

Then, after an eternity, Ryan smiles and lifts a hand in a wave, and Gavin’s lungs remember how to breathe.

 

\--- --- ---

 

The first time Gavin sees The Vagabond, it’s in a dark alley in the bowels of Los Santos immediately after Gavin had gotten the shit kicked out of him. Gavin had slipped the wallet off a guy in the bar he’d been drinking at, just to stay in practice, except the mark had noticed and he had _not_ appreciated it. He’d chased Gavin a few streets over and had caught him in this alley behind a failing restaurant, water and slime dripping down the brick walls, and had come at him with a flurry of fists and feet. Even back then Gavin had been somewhat adept at hand-to-hand combat – the entire Crew was, though Gavin’s style tended to be more duck-and-dodge than the rest of them – and Gavin had managed to avoid a few swipes until the mark had clocked him on the jaw and he’d been stunned against the wall.

That’s when the mark has him dead to rights, and goes to town. When Gavin’s entire body is on fire, his vision obscured by tears while he tries to breathe and tuck himself into the foetal position, Gavin feels the mark lurch away from him. There’s a scuffle-thump-groan, and by the time Gavin is able to lift his head and see again, the mark is on the ground out cold, and standing above him is The Vagabond.

Gavin knew the stories, of course. The man with the black skull mask – murderer-for-hire, psychopath, a fan of making his work flashy and obvious, but who’s entire identity behind that mask was the most well-kept secret in Los Santos. And there he was, the mask’s teeth edged with pink light from a neon sign on the main street, looking absurdly tall from Gavin’s angle on the ground. The Vagabond helps him to his feet and Gavin discovers their almost equal height, but where Gavin is built like a twig, The Vagabond is comparatively a bull.

“You’re Ramsey’s kid, right?” The Vagabond asks behind the mask, no checking on Gavin’s health or ability to get back home.

Gavin is distracted, staring at the piercing blue eyes behind the mask, but he isn’t sure how to answer anyway, whether he should keep his identity secret or whether it matters, and ends up with an eloquent, “Uh.”

The Vagabond snorts as he lets Gavin go to stand on his own. “Yeah, that’s you.” Immediately Gavin is offended and squawks, but The Vagabond covers his mouth with a hand. “Uh huh, definitely you.” Gavin startles easily, is a mess of sounds and motions and flight responses, but strangely right now he doesn’t feel panic. The Vagabond’s entire body is relaxed and in control and he doesn’t seem like he’s about to hurt him or anything, and funnily enough Gavin – although tense – is fairly calm. Slowly, The Vagabond lets him go, and Gavin takes a step back. “You should be more careful,” The Vagabond tells him lowly, and then says nothing else as he turns and walks out of the alley, and out of Gavin’s sight.

Gavin doesn’t tell anyone about this. The bruises and scrapes from the fight he explains as just that – a careless mistake that no, he won’t repeat again, and something he took but managed to escape the worst of. He especially doesn’t tell anyone when The Vagabond appears in the penthouse living room months later.

Geoff calls them all in for a meeting, and there he is, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His mask is off, but there it is, dangling from his fingers. He’s wearing the same jacket and jeans and shoes, letting Gavin focus on his face. Or, what he can make out of his face through the thick face paint, red and black and white, and what he can make out once again are those eyes, fixed on him.

Gavin knows he’s staring, but neither of them let up until Geoff bustles in and points.

“This,” Geoff announces, “is The Vagabond.”

“No shit,” Michael breathes, awestruck. The Vagabond switches his eyes to him and smirks, and Gavin suddenly realises he’d not been breathing.

“What’s he doing here?” Jack asks, as though The Vagabond isn’t right there listening. Jack’s entire body is tense, and she hasn’t sat down like the rest of them. One hand is on her hip, fingers tapping, and Gavin knows she’s ready to pull the gun from the small of her back at the slightest provocation.

Geoff grins at her. “The Vagabond--”

“Ryan,” The Vagabond suddenly cuts in, and everyone swings their heads to him. He shrugs. “My name is Ryan.” Geoff blinks.

“Uh, right. Ryan has been working off the books for me for a few months, getting the feel of how we’ll go together, and I think it’s time we make him a Crew member.” Gavin hears this, but doesn’t really take it in, not yet.

 _Ryan_. Ryan with blue eyes and long black hair in a ponytail. Ryan with face paint and a mask. Ryan who is a _legend_ in Los Santos, but still took the time to rescue Gavin from something much worse than a beating. Gavin manages to swallow and tear his eyes away, manages to listen to Geoff talk about upcoming plans and possibilities with a new Crew member on their side, but also manages to not really think about anything except Ryan for the rest of the night.

 

\--- --- ---

 

Gavin’s legs are carrying him through the crowd towards Ryan before he can even really think about it, swallowing down the last of his champagne and passing the glass off to a waiter. Briefly Ryan turns away and Gavin’s heart leaps into his throat, but when he turns back he’s holding a fresh glass, and smoothly hands it to Gavin just as he arrives. His own hand is conspicuously empty.

“Gavin,” Ryan greets, smiling. Somehow, Gavin manages to smile back, and he hopes it looks as sincere as he feels.

“Ryan,” he answers, but he’s nervous and it comes out half-croaks. Ryan, to his credit, does not point this out. They both know had their positions been reversed, Gavin might not have been as kind. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

At this, Ryan’s eyebrows briefly crease inwards – _surprise_ – and Gavin files this information away, but quickly his face smooths out and he shrugs. “You know me, I like to keep my plans quiet.” Gavin _does_ know – he’s been trying to keep his own eyes on Ryan’s movements, and never seems to get very far. Ryan knows him too well, too, and must be hiding himself.

“Well, it’s nice to see you,” Gavin tells him, and Ryan’s smile widens – _genuine_.

“Yeah, it’s good to see you, too.” There’s a brief pause while Gavin sips his drink, and Gavin can’t help but think that of all the ways he imagined their reunion to go, this was just simply not it.

Gavin had expected, mostly, being punched hard, right in his damn face. He’d thought maybe Ryan would give him the cold shoulder, or would come with new friends who would just quietly get Gavin out of the picture, permanently. He’d once entertained the idea that Ryan would just reappear in the penthouse, and Gavin would apologise and everything would be fine, but that was fantasy, pure and simple.

This, this is just a casual greeting. He supposes that being impolite is probably beneath them both, honestly.

“How long has it been?” Gavin asks. “Five, six months?”

“About a half a year, yeah,” Ryan answers, and it sounds humoured, like he’s just playing with Gavin now.

“Uh, so, how have you been? What have you been doing? Fill me, uh, fill me in.”

Ryan doesn’t answer right away, instead looking at Gavin’s glass until he lifts it to his lips to sip again. “You know, I’ve been driving for a few hours and haven’t had anything to eat since this morning.” He looks away, towards the long set of tables loaded with food. “Everything looks pretty good, might move over there.”

Gavin tries not to let his face change, even though his heart feels like it’s shattering and he wants to reach out and grab Ryan’s sleeve and make him stay. Slowly, trying not to retch, Gavin nods. “O-okay, sure, no worries,” and watches as Ryan takes two steps away from him.

But then, Ryan glances back at him, raises an eyebrow and asks, “Coming?” and Gavin nearly trips over his feet to follow.

 

\--- --- ---

 

“Be careful around Ryan,” Geoff tells Gavin in the weeks following Ryan’s hire into the Crew. “He’s very good at what he does, and I wouldn’t let him hang around if I thought he was going to turn on us, but he does seem a little…unstable. Just, be careful.” The thing is, neither Gavin or Ryan have spoken about their first ever meeting, or much at all, really. Gavin kind of wants to, even if just to thank him, but Ryan always looks like he’s just waiting for an excuse to murder someone. It’s that, and Geoff’s warning, that makes Gavin decide to be contrary.

Ryan is given his own room in the penthouse, just like the rest of them. Gavin knows the usual routine of everyone living there – from Ray, who keeps astoundingly regular hours with early mornings and early nights, to Jack, who spends no more than 10 minutes in her bathroom each morning but always emerges with perfect hair and makeup – and so he starts getting to know Ryan by studying him. What he learns, very quickly, is that Ryan does not _have_ a routine.

He gets up at random. When he stays up late, it’s a complete toss-up as to whether he’ll sleep in or awaken early – Gavin starts testing the potential relationship to moon phases but isn’t getting anywhere – and sometimes he gets coffee when he wanders into the kitchen, but sometimes he just has toast. Once, for a whole week, Ryan leaves the penthouse at 2 pm precisely, and returns at 8 for leftover dinner, but that turns out to be a job and the routine there breaks apart the moment it’s over.

Eventually, Gavin thinks that maybe Ryan isn’t someone who can be understood by his movements – rare though those people are – and decides maybe the best option is just to talk to him after all.

He tracks him down one afternoon, when Ryan is sitting alone in the living room, lounged back on the sofa and reading a book – _The Three Musketeers_ , Gavin files away for later use – and only looks up when Gavin heavily sits down on the sofa’s other end. It’s rare to see Ryan without either mask or face paint, and rarer still to see him relaxing – mostly he spends his time alone in his room. What Gavin discovers in this moment is that the absence of these characterising objects makes Ryan’s expressions both absurdly easy to read, and also somehow all the more terrifying. Right now, Ryan is fixing him with a level stare that seems just on the safe side of imminent danger.

Gavin – determined and foolish – grins wide and easy. “Hello, lovely Ryan.” One eyebrow raises very slowly, and Gavin waits.

“What do you want?”

Gavin shrugs, and gestures to the couch. “Saw you sitting here alone, didn’t I? Thought you might want some company.”

At this, Ryan snorts and looks back to his book. “I don’t.” Gavin frowns, but he’s never yet met a person he couldn’t crack exactly the way he wants them to.

“Do you read a lot?” he asks, but Ryan doesn’t answer. “I feel like I never have time. What’s your favourite book?” Nothing. Gavin manages to hold in his huff, but he feels his face get a little hot with the effort. “Do you, uh, like fantasy or sci-fi? Or, American classics like _Of Mice and Men_?”

This gets a response, a very curt, “I hate Steinbeck,” and Gavin feels himself deflate a little.

“Oh.” He lets the room fall into a very awkward silence, and before he can really stop himself he’s tucking his legs up against his chest. It’s a tell of his, he knows, but he can certainly hope Ryan won’t notice, or at least won’t comment. What Gavin notices, though, is that Ryan hasn’t turned a single page since Gavin started talking.

“Well, what about your favourite food? Drink? What else do you do for fun?” Gavin expects more silence, maybe another snort, some kind of annoyed interaction that just makes Gavin have to try harder. What he gets is a vicious glare – _murderous_ – as Ryan snaps his book closed, joltily rises from the couch, and basically stomps immediately away. Gavin watches him go, eyes wide and jaw dropped, and a few moments later he hears the slam of Ryan’s bedroom door echo down the corridor.

He sits there for a very long while, utterly amazed, and finally surprises himself when he shakes his head and huffs a soft laugh. “Right then,” he murmurs, grinning. “Challenge bloody accepted.”

Gavin is _very_ good at finding information on people. In a lot of ways, he thinks that’s why Geoff lets him get away with a lot of stupid shit, because when Geoff needs something on someone, Gavin will get it. He has sources, he has his methods, and now he drops everything non-essential to the Crew, and focuses his sights directly on Ryan.

His usual first stops offer nothing. The Vagabond had been a mystery for years before he’d joined up under Geoff. All the photos were the same – a blurry figure with the mask and jacket – and all the reports were frustratingly bare. Talking clearly isn’t going to work, so Gavin goes for sheer stubbornness. Now, everywhere Ryan goes, Gavin is there, somewhere.

He glimpses Geoff hand him a book in the kitchen one morning before anyone else has stumbled out of their rooms. Ryan smiles – _actually smiles!_ – and thanks him, and Gavin sees enough of the cover to guess it’s something sci-fi. “You’re the only asshole in here smart enough to warrant lending it to,” Geoff snorts, and Ryan chuckles – _actually chuckles!_ – and tells him those are Geoff’s words, not his.

It turns out Geoff and Ryan share books or recommendations fairly regularly.

Whenever the Crew eats together, one of them gets to pick what they all have. Whenever it’s Ryan’s turn, he always shrugs and says, “I don’t know, burgers?” and always gets the same thing, and always with onion rings. Gavin sneaks around after him one day when Ryan is on a job and Gavin is decidedly not, and that’s when Gavin finds out that any spare meal he can, Ryan gets the very same thing then, too. Slowly, it dawns on Gavin that for Ryan the burger choice is less of a _who can be bothered?_ thing, and far more of a _this is the best meal ever_ thing.

He watches Ryan sneak bags of Fritos into his room, and sneak the crumpled packets out only twenty minutes later. He sees Ryan cave in to the call of doughnuts _every_ time there’s a box left on the kitchen counter. On one memorable afternoon, Gavin catches Ryan come back four times for doughnuts from the box Gavin has left, only to return guiltily a few hours later with a whole new box, which he doesn’t take anything from at all.

So Gavin learns what Ryan’s snack preferences are, but also learns that he doesn’t want to stop anyone else from sharing communal food gifts.

Every Thursday night, the whole Crew comes together in the living room, and Geoff breaks out the alcohol. Invariably, Jack will pass Ryan a beer, and he will thank her, open it, and take a swig. But when Jack turns away briefly to grab a drink of her own from Geoff, and when Ray and Michael are distracted talking at him, Gavin sees Ryan wince slightly before swallowing, and Gavin only just manages to hide his grin from the room.

No matter where they are – a party, an event, a bar, or just at home – people always pass Ryan a beer, and he always thanks them, and always silently struggles to down it. He nurses the same bottle or glass all night, sipping slowly but consistently, never lets the drink out of his hand, and always downs the last swallow quickly when it’s time to go – the beer by now surely warm and flat and unpleasant. One night, Gavin passes wine out to everyone to celebrate with instead of beer, and the very same thing happens – Ryan grimaces, but hides it well, and nurses it the whole night. When Gavin drags them out to a cocktail bar another night, it happens again.

And so Gavin learns that Ryan does not like _any_ alcohol at all, but will drink it to prevent the risk of offending anyone – even Gavin.

But then Gavin also notices the honestly obscene amount of empty Diet Coke cans that have started appearing in the recycling since Ryan’s arrival. Sometimes Gavin glimpses him with one in his hand, and on one occasion when everyone else is out and he thinks Gavin is with them, Ryan carries an entire case of the drinks into his room.

Ryan is not without his vices, Gavin also learns. Very secretly, Ryan likes to smoke. Gavin finds crumpled packets of Newport Blues in the rubbish every once in a while, and even accidentally stumbles on Ryan smoking out the back of the building one night. So many people Gavin knows or has done jobs with smoke, and most of them toss their butts on the ground, but not Ryan. He twists out the end of each one with his fingers, and takes the butt inside to dispose of it. Gavin is also convinced he then washes his hands and brushes his teeth, and that seems to absolutely fall within the absurdly considerate characterisation Gavin is forming of Ryan in his head.

And here’s the thing – Ryan gets along pretty well with all the other Crew members. He shares books with Geoff, and chats about them over coffee in the morning. He and Jack sometimes have lunch together, because they’re about the same age and they both like hearing each other’s stories about past work. Ray tends to keep to himself, and Ryan loves quiet time, so more than once Gavin has spotted them next to each other on the sofa, Ryan buried in a book and Ray tapping away on his DS, and both seem content enough to do so. And Michael, well, Michael thinks Ryan is scary as fuck, but when Ryan straight up saves his life on a job one day, they end up laughing and playing video games together while they jokingly argue about who is performing better.

But now, now Gavin is kind of at a loss. Ryan seems to get on just fine with everyone else, and seems to be an actually, genuinely, _nice person_. And Gavin just can’t figure out why he’s not getting the same treatment, or at least polite distance. Instead, he gets cold shoulders and one day when Gavin buys Ryan a new pack of cigarettes as a truce gift, he even gets open hostility.

The packet cracks against the side of his head when he walks through the kitchen the day after he’d bought them and left them outside Ryan’s door. He squawks and flails, and spins to find Ryan glaring at him, arms crossed. “Stop following me, and leave me the fuck alone, Gavin,” he growls. Gavin feels his blood turn cold, feels the tension in the air like Ryan is about to actually hurt him, and is just about to make a run for it when Ryan turns on his heel and leaves Gavin to pick up the offending packet of cigarettes and try to calm his racing heart.

Gavin doesn’t get it. And Gavin may be very intelligent, but he admits he’s not exactly _clever_ , so he goes straight to overexposure.

“Good morning, lovely Ryan,” when they’re both in the kitchen for coffee or breakfast.

“Good night, lovely Ryan,” when Ryan gets up to leave drinks on a Thursday night.

“Aw, Ryan, thanks, Ryan,” when he gets passed dinner down the table.

“Dude, he’s straight up going to murder you,” Ray tells him one day, eyes still fixed on his game after Gavin wishes Ryan luck on a job as he passes through the living room. Gavin denies it, laughing, and turns back to his phone. Ray shrugs. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And then, one evening when everyone else is out on a job, Gavin finds Ryan alone in the garage, tinkering with his motorbike, so Gavin walks in to chat. His own car is nearby, and Gavin leans his hip on it – a purple Blista, because Geoff refuses to let Gavin spend money on a better car when he’s already damaged this one so much he’s spent more on repairs than even this car is worth.

“Hello, lovely Ryan,” he says with a huge smile. He sees Ryan freeze where he’s hunched over his bike, and his chest expands and contracts suddenly – _sighing_. He looks up at Gavin, and frowns. There’s a smudge of oil across his left eyebrow and he’s not wearing a jacket today, just a maroon shirt that may be a size too small, Gavin can’t decide.

“What do you want?” Ryan demands.

Gavin shrugs. “Just came to talk. What are you doing?”

Ryan raises an eyebrow, looks to the spanner in his hand, back to his bike, and then back up to Gavin. “Are you a fucking idiot?”

Gavin flushes red immediately, and his hands tighten. Lucky he has his arms crossed, Gavin thinks, or Ryan might have seen it. “N-no, I can see you’re working on… I just meant, what _specifically-_ ”

Ryan clanks the spanner down and grabs a rag to wipe his hands with. “Why are you here to talk?”

“I was just bored, I-”

“ _Bored_?” Ryan asks, incredulous. “Okay, seriously Gavin, what _exactly_ is it that you do around here?”

Gavin’s eyebrows shoot up so hard and fast he thinks they might be in his hairline. “Excuse me?” he asks, amazed, and pushes up from his car to stand up straight.

“Because I’ve been trying to figure it out, and god help me I just can’t. Everyone else has a damn purpose and an actual job to do around here, but you just seem to get in everyone’s way and don’t ever actually _do_ anything. All I can see is that you’re Ramsey’s precious little Golden Boy, and you offer nothing more than lounging around looking pretty. So if you don’t fucking mind, I’m going to get back to work.” And with that, Ryan turns back to his bike, and ignores Gavin completely.

But Gavin… Gavin is flushing hot and cold, his heart is pounding, he can hear the blood rushing in his ears. It’s not easy to piss Gavin off but oh, he’s pissed off now. He’s _furious_. And with the heat of anger and humiliation colouring his face, Gavin stiffly turns and all but runs away. He nurses that fury all the way to his room while he collects a large hard drive. He nurses it all the way back to Ryan’s room where he picks the lock and walks straight in. He nurses it for the whole two minutes it takes to break into Ryan’s computer. He nurses it while he installs a little program he’s been working on for a laugh, so now every time Ryan tries to click on something, a new image or document opens. And as for these, well, Gavin loads up every piece of information he has on himself.

His favourites are those from the police department, the CIA, the FBI – always ‘The Golden Boy’ because his persona is as much a costume and his identity as secret as Ryan’s. These describe the hack jobs he’s pulled on their systems for information (he always signs these, no matter how much Geoff tells him off for it, because, “I take _pride_ in my work, Geoffrey, and can you _imagine_ their bloody faces right now?!”). They – angry, and embarrassed – describe the times a member of the Crew has been caught and locked up, and how Gavin invariably seems to walk in there and charm them out, or manages to slip them an escape method, and how it’s always through the new, young, naïve members of the force.

The images show him always grinning up at a CCTV camera – sometimes with a salute, sometimes with a wink, sometimes with his gold sunglasses and a thumbs up - and he loves those, because no one on the force has managed to see him when he doesn’t want to be seen. Other files are emails or scans of letters he’s gathered, thanking him for help on jobs by other crews, or the hilarious ones where someone is talking about how he duped them, how he charmed the information out of someone. Some are about how he seemed to have knowledge about future plans that an ‘idiot’ shouldn’t have, but every single one of them describes, ultimately, that they had underestimated Ramsey’s Golden Boy, and how wrong they were to do it.

And flashing over the top of every new image and file Gavin writes, _This is what I do, you arsehole._

With that, still nursing the anger and frustration, but now a little soothed by all this, Gavin slinks away, locking Ryan’s door again behind him.

He knows exactly when Ryan sees it. From down the corridor he hears Ryan’s door slam open, hears him yell his name, and hears the pounding of feet coming towards him rapidly. He stands up and moves away from his own laptop, smirking in advance, but the moment his door crashes open and Ryan starts towards him looking utterly murderous, Gavin yelps and flails backwards to try and escape. He hits the wall just as Ryan reaches him, curling a hand in his shirt and slamming him heavily backwards into it.

“Ryan! Please-”

“What the _fuck_ did you do?” Ryan yells, pulling him back and hitting him against the wall again. “Fix my _fucking computer_!”

“Ow, Ryan, I’m sorry, I-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ryan spits, using his free hand to cover Gavin’s mouth and shut him up. Gavin’s brain stalls. “I don’t give a shit how great you think you are,” Gavin’s skin is burning where Ryan is touching him, “just fucking _fix it_ or I will straight up kill you.” And here he releases Gavin’s shirt to grab him by the throat, squeezing just a little as a threat, and Gavin’s eyelids flutter and he moans.

Everything becomes very still for a very long moment, both their eyes wide and locked on each other. Gavin’s skin feels tight, the nerves under Ryan’s hands feel like they’re on fire, but Gavin’s brain restarts and now all he can think about is how unfortunate it is to realise all this right as he’s about to die.

Except… Ryan isn’t killing him at all. His hand around Gavin’s throat is loosening, he swallows once and glances down at where his other hand is covering Gavin’s mouth. Ryan’s eyes duck away, his face turns pink, and all too clearly Gavin sees that Ryan isn’t quite so much uncomfortable as he is terribly unsure of himself.

Here’s what Gavin knows about himself.

First, he is _excellent_ at reading people, and learning about who they are. Part of why Gavin is so good at this is because it puts him in control of people, and Gavin _loves_ to be in control of people. Above all, Gavin likes _pretending_ other people are in control, while he pulls the strings.

What Gavin has learned about Ryan is that Ryan is a genuinely nice person. His Vagabond persona is just that – a mask, a costume – and Ryan does so much just to make people happy or, if nothing else, just to not make them feel bad. He gives up a lot of the control that he wields as The Vagabond when he’s just being Ryan, and in this very moment Gavin experiences pure clarity – Ryan wants to give up all control to someone else.

Slowly, beneath Ryan’s drooping hand, Gavin grins wide.

Ryan must feel this, because he snaps his hand away, but doesn’t step back. His eyebrows furrow, and the hand around Gavin’s throat loosens more, but he doesn’t pull that one free completely. Gavin doesn’t let him get far. His grin widens, he looks up at Ryan through his eyelashes, and leans in towards his ear.

“I’m sorry I messed with your computer, Ryan,” he murmurs. He feels the shudder run through Ryan – across Ryan’s hand to his throat – more than he sees it. “You probably want to punish me, right?” he adds, pulling back and quirking an eyebrow. Ryan’ pupils are blown wide, his breathing a little shallow. He doesn’t answer for a long time, so Gavin frowns. “Well?” Immediately, Ryan nods, and Gavin grins again. “Good. Good.” He reaches up to gently pull Ryan’s hand away from his throat, and positions it around to the small of his back. Almost as though by instinct, Ryan pulls him flush against him with this new anchoring position, and Gavin moans softly. Perfect.

He flattens his own hands on Ryan’s front, smoothing one down to rest at the waistband of his jeans while he leans in to trail his lips along Ryan’s jaw. Deft fingers unbutton Ryan’s fly and slip inside, and the moment Gavin strokes his cock through his briefs Ryan’s second hand shoots to Gavin’s hip and holds on like it’s a lifeline. Vaguely, Gavin thinks about getting little thumbprint bruises on his hip, little teeth marks on his skin, rope marks around his wrists maybe, and he grins into the kiss he presses under Ryan’s ear.

“So, how are you going to make me apologise?” Gavin asks lowly. He doesn’t get an answer, but he also doesn’t expect one, not yet, and not while Ryan is getting his cock rubbed through fabric. He pulls his hand free. “You want me to suck you off?”

“That’d be a good start,” Ryan growls, and Gavin is so surprised he throws his head back to laugh, and then pulls Ryan’s head in close to kiss him properly. Ryan may be hesitant and unbalanced with what is happening between them right now, but Gavin has to admit he knows what he’s doing, and maybe that’s because this part is really no different no matter who you’re doing it with, but he kisses like he means it, letting Gavin guide in parts and pressing in others. At the same time, he starts popping buttons off Gavin’s shirt to get it open, and shoving the fabric down off Gavin’s shoulders.

Gavin pulls back a touch to pull Ryan’s shirt up and over his head, leaning down to swipe his tongue over a nipple while Ryan is undoing his jeans for him, and smooths his hands down Ryan’s abs and – yeah, those are going to be _great_ when Gavin lets Ryan fuck him. Gavin lets Ryan shove his jeans partway down and squeeze his arse cheeks for a bit – Ryan’s nails nick and pull at the skin and it’s only by virtue of very good practice that Gavin isn’t letting the anticipation and _thought_ of it all make him so hard he can’t move. Eventually he steps out of his jeans and briefs and kicks them aside, and then looks up right into Ryan’s eyes.

“You going to make me, or what?”

More hesitation, and that just makes it all the sweeter when Ryan jerks into action and uses both hands on Gavin’s shoulders to shove him down to his knees and pull his head in close to his cock, only just free from his own jeans. Gavin licks a long, smooth stroke up its length before he opens his mouth for Ryan to guide the head in himself, and, god, Gavin can already feel his mouth watering. He contents himself for a while just sucking the head, tongue swirling, but he can do so much more and definitely wants to show off, so slowly sinks further down until his lips bump insistently against Ryan’s fingers where he’s holding himself.

The hand Ryan has in his hair tightens, scratching nails against Gavin’s scalp, but it takes Ryan a moment to figure out the problem while he’s trying to push Gavin down further, and snatches his other hand away. Gavin opens his throat and sinks down gratefully before sliding back up and hollowing his cheeks, tongue flat against the underside. Ryan groans low when Gavin goes down again, cock sliding easily into his throat, the sound reverberating gently into Gavin’s skull. It’s here – hair scratching his nose and the metal of Ryan’s fly scraping under his chin, that Gavin moves his eyes up to catch Ryan’s.

It’s like the world narrows. All Gavin can smell is Ryan – sweat and blood and oil and gunpowder, and the musty smell of arousal. All he can feel is Ryan’s cock in his mouth, Ryan’s fingers in his hair. And all he can see are those two bright blue eyes staring at him, somehow – absurdly – taken with him, warring between wanting to do something, and wanting to wait for Gavin to tell him to. And Gavin, well, he would happily stay down here on his knees all day, but he _wants_ more. He pulls away.

Ryan is already breathing hard, hand still scratching against Gavin’s head. Gavin quirks an eyebrow up. “You’re going to fuck me, right?” he says, less a question than pure statement of fact. Ryan is nodding even before Gavin has finished.

“Yeah, yeah.” There’s a long pause while Ryan looks back and forth between Gavin and his bed in the corner. “Are you… I mean, the bed?”

Gavin smirks and gives him a look he hopes conveys ‘you should know better’. Ryan’s lips part in surprise for half a breath, before the bright blue of his eyes darkens, just a shade, and Gavin shivers just before he’s dragged to his feet by Ryan’s hand on his head. Ryan’s free hand flattens on his chest, and he walks him backwards until Gavin is made to climb up onto the mattress.

Ryan kicks his own jeans and briefs off and leans down to kiss Gavin again, forceful and bruising against his lips, and Gavin grins into it easily when Ryan snags his lower lip with his teeth. “Lube’s in the top drawer,” Gavin murmurs under Ryan’s jaw, and magnanimously doesn’t comment on Ryan’s fumble of it just before he climbs up to kneel on the bed in front of him. Gavin snatches the lube from his hands and swings it loosely in his fingers, and quirks his eyebrows. “Now, punish me.”

Ryan’s face darkens, and Gavin laughs because that is the look of a man who had forgotten how and why they are here, but now that he’s remembered Gavin is pretty sure things are going to go better for them. Sure enough, Ryan grabs him roughly behind the neck and his hip and pulls him in, leaning down to bite down hard on his shoulder. Gavin’s laughter chokes off into a broken moan.

It’s strangely difficult, Gavin manages to think, to finger himself open while Ryan sets to marking every part of him with teeth and tongue and lips and nails, and the pain feels like the punishment Gavin wanted, but the heat of it is absolution. Ryan is clearly furious about his computer, now that he’s been reminded of it – he never draws blood, but inflicts enough pain that Gavin is going to feel it for days. Gavin still wants _more_.

“Ryan, _come on,_ bloody hell,” Gavin groans while Ryan sucks his nipple into a bruise. Ryan smooths his hands down over Gavin’s arse to the back of his thighs to heft him up onto his lap, and the sound that comes out of Ryan’s mouth as he does it can only be described as a snarl. Gavin gasps and wriggles, but stills with his lips on Ryan’s when Ryan guides his cock into him. He tries to set the pace himself, but Ryan isn’t having that, and the world tilts backwards until he’s pressed between Ryan and the mattress.

The thing is, Gavin isn’t embarrassed to admit how many people he’s slept with. He’s not ashamed to know what he wants from sex like this, and how to get it, and all it takes with Ryan is to lean up and murmur in his ear, “You better fuck me _hard_.”

Of all things though, Ryan freezes. Gavin flops down to his back, and Ryan’s eyes meet his, wide with pupil’s blown. “So I can punish you,” Ryan clarifies, voice low, still angry. Gavin quirks his eyebrow and nods, and suddenly Ryan is kissing the life out of him again and flicking his hips up into Gavin’s, _hard_. Gavin yelps in surprise, throwing his head back and away, and by the time the sound flattens to a moan Ryan has latched on to his shoulder with his teeth.

Ryan is excellent at doing as he’s told, Gavin realises in this long moment. He’s controlled while he fucks into him exactly as Gavin hoped, fast and hard and _perfect_. It’s forceful enough that Gavin has to throw his hands above his head to brace himself on the headboard even with Ryan holding hard onto his thighs to keep them spread wide and to try and anchor him in place, and Ryan has to pull away from his skin to heave enough air into his lungs. Gavin is surprised either of them can breathe at all, because he’s on fire and his lungs have seized and he can feel himself teetering on the edge even without his own cock being touched. That’s how he wants to come.

“Ah, ah, _Ryan_ ,” he tries to say over the sounds of Ryan’s hard breathing and the slap of skin on skin, and only just manages to get out, “Ryan, choke me.”

If he’d been in any state of mind to really think about it, Gavin would probably have been terrifically surprised by the lack of concern or argument or hesitation Ryan shows. Instead, when Ryan moves a hand up to his throat and squeezes thumb and middle finger on his carotids, when the world goes fuzzy at the corners and the heat and pleasure he’s feeling heighten, what Gavin really thinks about is the _obedience_ , and with a cry and a whole-body shake he comes.

Almost immediately Ryan releases his throat, and Gavin lets him bury his nose against Gavin’s sweaty temple while he keeps thrusting his hips, desperation colouring the movements. Gavin, typically, is fairly loud in bed from start to end, but Ryan, Ryan he feels grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut, stuttering his hips with a, “Hn,” and a _whuff_ of air out his nose, and Gavin so badly wants to one day change that.

Ryan’s chest is sweaty and sticky when he slumps down onto Gavin, hardly able to catch his breath, and doesn’t seem at all bothered by Gavin’s legs now framing his hips where he’s dropped his feet back down to the mattress, or by the shivers that wrack Gavin’s body each time Ryan shifts and Gavin can still feel his cock inside him. They’re still like that when Ryan moves his head slightly to the side to be able to talk.

Gavin expects a few things – “That was good,” maybe, or, “Thanks,” or, “I have to go.” What he gets is a very annoyed, very gravelly, “Now fix my _fucking_ computer.”

Taken utterly by surprise, Gavin bursts into laughter. “Yeah,” he manages eventually, chuckling around the word and around the open mouth kisses he presses along Ryan’s jaw. “Yeah.”

Strangely, it’s not the worst start to a relationship Gavin has ever heard of.

 

\--- --- ---

 

Ryan leads him over to one of the small, high round tables dotting the edges of the room, letting Gavin place his drink on it to pick at the food he’s collected. Unsurprisingly, Ryan has loaded his entire plate with mini burgers – like he was daring Gavin to say something about it – and he takes a bite out of one as soon as they stop here. They haven’t said much on the walk over, or while they collected food, but now that they’ve stopped Gavin can see Ryan is waiting for him to start. He can’t tell if that’s a concession or an unspoken command. He’s not sure he cares.

“So,” Gavin starts after he clears his food with a drink. “What have you been up to?”

Ryan shrugs. “The usual, I suppose. Running odd jobs for a few different people, couple of groups. Got The Vagabond’s mask plastered all over the news again a few weeks back, that was fun.”

Gavin laughs. “I think I saw that! Something about exploding one of the banks a few suburbs over?” He doesn’t say that he followed the story religiously and read every scrap of information law enforcement put on their servers, and the only thing he couldn’t find was Ryan’s whereabouts. He gets a grin and a nod in response, but no more seems forthcoming. “ _Well_? Tell me everything!”

Surprisingly, Ryan does. They spend hours talking about all the fun jobs they’d each been on, swapping war stories and bragging about battle scars. Gavin doesn’t remember laughing so hard in months – _five, maybe six months_ , his mind unhelpfully reminds him – and Ryan chuckles back in that quietly pleased way Gavin had become so used to.

At one point, he glances around the room while Ryan pops the last part of his last burger in his mouth, and catches Michael and Geoff on the other side of the room. Michael nudges Geoff with his elbow and flicks his head towards them, grinning, and Geoff smiles in response, arms crossed. Gavin is still trying to figure this out when Ryan says, “but that gave me enough money to go out and buy a bike, straight out, so I suppose it was worth it.”

Gavin’s head whips back to him. “Wait, you bought a new motorbike?” he asks, eyes wide, until his brain catches up and he winces, and hunches his shoulders. Probably not a good idea to remind Ryan of _that_ , actually, now that he thinks about it. Ryan looks at him carefully for a very long moment.

“I did, I really did.” He leans in conspiratorially. “And it’s so much _nicer_ than my last one,” he adds, and very slowly, smiles wide. Gavin feels himself turning a little pink. Ryan is still so _nice_ , and Gavin can’t help but think how he doesn’t deserve him, he’d _never_ deserved him. And even when Gavin really puts his foot into it, Ryan is still here talking to him, humouring him, laughing with him, and Gavin almost can’t bear it.

He’s thinking all of this when Ryan’s smile turns into a full-blown grin, and he sits back. “Hey, remember when we wanted to start that heist by parachuting off the Maze Bank?” Gavin’s eyes widen and he leans forward in anticipation. “You’ll never guess what I got to do the other week.”

 

\--- --- ---

 

For a while, Gavin doesn’t think that Ryan will find him frustrating and infuriating enough as often as he needs to for Gavin to convince him to have sex with him the way he likes it. Turns out, Ryan almost _always_ thinks he’s frustrating and infuriating, and that isn’t going away. So as it happens, almost any time the penthouse is otherwise empty, Gavin goes to Ryan’s room and is very quickly able to wheedle Ryan into heaving him onto the bed or bending him over his desk or slamming him against a wall.

What’s interesting to Gavin later is that afterwards, Ryan likes to take care of him, washing down the bites and scratches peppered over his shoulder and chest and back and thighs. Personally, Gavin reasons, he needs the roughness and hardness of it all, the feeling of being completely in control of his own punishment, but Ryan needs the wrap up, the self-assurance that he’s not the monster people outside see. And, honestly, Gavin kind of likes it too.

For a few weeks, Gavin will kiss Ryan’s jaw when he’s done cleaning him up and will disappear back to his own room. He can’t remember the first time he stays long afterwards, Ryan wrapped around him, muscles pleasantly aching and falling in and out of light sleep, only to have to sneak out when he hears someone get back to the penthouse. No matter when that first time was, it happens more and more and for longer and longer until Gavin starts having to sneak out the next morning instead.

But Gavin distinctly remembers the first time Ryan comes to _Gavin’s_ room of his own volition, tilting Gavin’s head back to kiss him firmly, bouncing him up with his hands behind his thighs so Gavin can wrap his legs around his waist, carrying him across the room and lowering him gently back onto his bed. He remembers that there was no punishment, no ordering, no need for aftercare, just relaxed, rhythmic sex with mingled breaths, and inevitable rather than desperate orgasms, and gentle kisses against lightly stroked skin.

Gavin is just starting to drift to sleep in the darkness, Ryan curled around his back and gently stroking hair off his temples when Ryan murmurs close to his ear, “We should do this more often.”

Gavin chuckles sleepily. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been doing it for months now.” Ryan’s lips move from his ear down to the junction between his neck and shoulder, and kiss it. Warmth spreads across Gavin’s torso from this point. He doesn’t comment on it.

“I mean, this, specifically,” Ryan tries to clarify. “I mean, the other stuff we do is good, too,” and here Gavin snorts, “but this was nice, right? We could do this more often. And, maybe, you know, just the two of us.”

Gavin grins, and buries his face into his arm. “I hadn’t planned on inviting anyone else to join us,” he quips, yelping when Ryan pinches his side. “Okay, okay, Christ, I get it.” He goes silent for a while, thinking this over. He knows what Ryan means, of course, and he’s right – this _was_ nice. He could keep doing this as well. He nods, just enough for Ryan to notice it. “Okay,” he whispers, and feels Ryan smile into his skin.

“Good,” Ryan answers, kissing his shoulder once, twice. “Good.”

“You know if Geoff ever catches us you’re a dead man, yeah?”

Ryan huffs a breathy laugh. “Well, I won’t tell if you don’t,” he says drily, and pulls Gavin in closer before they fall silent again.

It’s a long while until Gavin murmurs into the darkness, “For the record, I haven’t slept with anyone else since we started anyway,” and the heated kiss he gets for that feels important.

Of course, Ryan was right, and it turns out to be really nice. They take to just spending the night in each other’s rooms anyway, spending more downtime around each other, Ryan always reading his books and Gavin messing around on his laptop. Eventually it progresses to kisses goodnight and good morning, secretly snatched kisses when they pass in the penthouse – Ryan glancing around every time to make sure they’re alone.

It’s 3 am when Ryan slips into Gavin’s room one night, stripping down to climb naked into bed with him. “Where’ve you been?” Gavin asks, voice thick with sleep, rolling over to entangle himself in Ryan’s limbs and press his face close to Ryan’s chest. He smells of blood.

“Had to do something quick for Geoff,” Ryan tells him. Gavin tilts his head back to question him, but all he can see from this angle is Ryan’s chin.

“Is he okay?”

“He is now.” Gavin doesn’t answer that right away, running through the possible explanations in his head, but eventually just huffs and tucks his head back in. “Also, I think Jack knows,” and when Gavin doesn’t respond, Ryan unnecessarily adds, “About us.”

Gavin hums. “Well yeah, probably. She knows everything that goes on in this place.” Ryan’s limbs tighten around him, and vaguely Gavin thinks he may have been just a little too nonchalant about it.

“Doesn’t that worry you? What if she tells Geoff?”

“Rye, if Jack thought it was a threat to the Crew, we’d have already been busted. Take it as a compliment that she thinks this is somewhere between ‘good’ and ‘not a problem’.”

Gently, Gavin presses a kiss into Ryan’s chest while he sighs and mutters, “Okay.”

In the end, what Jack thinks turns out not to matter.

Gavin feels the itch of _want_ under his skin for days, and nothing soothes it. Not the heat from Ryan’s mouth, not the red marks from his fingers, not the tickle of his tongue on his skin. Jittery, he steals his way into Ryan’s room and turns off his computer while Ryan is using it, hip leaning on the desk. Ryan thumps his back against his chair. “ _Seriously_ , Gavin?” he hisses, and swivels to look at him, but stops when he sees Gavin fidgeting, takes in the pink flush Gavin can feel rising. “O-Oh. Okay.”

Gavin smiles on one side, and lowers his eyelids a touch. “What would you do if I told you I keyed your car?”

It’s a little bit of a shame, really, because Ryan is now better than anyone at seeing through his shit. He raises one eyebrow. “Did you _actually_ key my car?”

Gavin shrugs. “No. But what would you do if I had?” He leans in, grinning, to Ryan’s ear. “You’d probably want to punish me, right?” Ryan sighs.

“I probably would,” he answers, and this is how Gavin ends up kneeling on the bed naked, shivering while Ryan marks his shoulders and collarbone with bites and licks and bruises sucked into his skin.

“You’d probably want to stop me from being able to touch anything again, right?” Gavin gasps as his fingers dig into Ryan’s back while Ryan is sucking his earlobe and stroking his cock. And this is how Gavin ends up with his hands tied behind his back with the thick cotton rope Ryan had one day come home with, tied at his wrists and just above his elbows. Gavin can feel the strain on his shoulders already, can feel the burn that’s going to cause tomorrow, and thinks this just might get rid of that itch he’s had for so long.

Ryan holds him carefully by the throat when he next goes to kiss him, only the slightest pressure. Gavin goes to tell him to press harder – because Gavin loves that – but Ryan beats him to the punch by pulling out a leather collar and leash from the box in his closet that had held the rope, and holds it up with a single finger, eyebrow raised and questioning. Gavin feels his mouth go dry because he _loves_ being in control of Ryan, and Ryan loves surrendering control, but at some point to get this he had to have thought about things Gavin likes – pressure on his throat, being pulled by his neck – and had to have gone and _bought it_. So Gavin, now somehow even harder than before, nods and tilts his head back to let Ryan put it on.

“You better make me work off all this frustration, yeah?” Gavin groans while Ryan fingers him, and this is how they end up with Ryan flat on his back, pulling on Gavin’s leash in one hand and twisting Gavin’s nipple in the other while Gavin rides him, desperately fucking himself open.

And this is how they are – Gavin with his arms still tied behind himself, face red and mouth wide to gasp in air around his whines – when Ryan’s door opens and Geoff comes in asking Ryan if he can send a quick ‘message’ to – well, to exactly _who_ never actually gets said.

Everyone, eyes wide, freezes for a very long moment. Slowly, Ryan opens his hand and lets Gavin’s leash slip through to land on his chest, and Geoff’s eyes follow it before flicking to Gavin, over to Ryan, and back to Gavin. His face starts darkening red, and he starts yelling, “What the _fuck_?” at the same time Gavin squawks and throws himself off Ryan and off the bed entirely, away from Geoff.

He crashes hard to the floor – unable to stop himself with his hands – and yelps while Ryan is throwing himself off the bed after him. Ryan’s feet get tangled for a second and he stumbles but lands, pulling the sheets off the bed to cover himself below the waist. “Geoff!” Gavin shrieks when he pops his head back over the edge of the bed to look at him, at the same time that Geoff yells again, “ _What the fuck_?”

Not a moment later, Geoff’s gaze has narrowed onto Ryan, and several things happen at once. Gavin jumps to his feet and moves in front of Ryan, as though that can really save him from anything. Jack, apparently hearing the commotion, steps into the room to ask what’s going on and promptly bursts into laughter as Gavin sees her as well and says, “ _Jack,_ ” both a plea and reprimand. Then Geoff reaches for where he usually keeps his gun on his hip – thankfully absent while he’s in the penthouse – and Jack, still laughing, steps in front of him with a soothing hand on his chest to hold him back.

“Gavin, you’re…” Jack starts, gesturing, because when Gavin has stood up to put himself in front of Ryan, he’s just shown his cock to everyone. He squeaks and turns, and Ryan goes to cover him with the same sheet he’s holding up over himself, but some combination of this and seeing Gavin’s arms all trussed up makes Geoff actually growl. “Alright, Geoff, calm down,” Jack orders, and Geoff swings to glare at her.

“Calm down?” he yells, and points at Gavin. “He’s fucking my kid!” No one bothers to mention Gavin isn’t actually his child or, rather, a child at all. Everyone knows that Geoff considers Gavin a son.

Gavin glances up. “Ryan,” he begs quietly, rolling his shoulders, and Ryan nods quickly.

“Look, we can talk this out,” Ryan starts, ignoring Geoff’s scoff, “but just… Let me take care of this, first,” and he gestures to the ropes. Jack snorts a laugh and nods, and Ryan hurries to find his briefs to pull them on, to find Gavin’s briefs to help him into them, and then to grab the rope shears to free Gavin quickly, to unbuckle the collar and slip it off. There are the red marks of light burns from the ropes on Gavin’s skin, and normally he would look at them fondly, would let Ryan kiss his way along them, but right now he just wants them soothed and gone so Geoff will stop glowering. Ryan is already grabbing the anti-inflammatory cream.

“So, you want to explain to Geoff what’s going on, then?” Jack chuckles. Gavin moves to sit on the side of the bed facing them, and lets Ryan follow him and gently lift his wrist to start massaging cream into it.

“It’s pretty bloody obvious, isn’t it?” Gavin mutters.

“I think,” Ryan adds, “he wants to hear that I’m not forcing you or something.”

“What?” Gavin asks, but then he looks carefully at Geoff, who is still red, but is also trembling, with his arms crossed tight across his chest, eyes not quite meeting his. _Fear, concern, embarrassment, doubt_. Slowly, Gavin smiles reassuringly. “No, Geoffrey, no. I started it, honest.”

“How long?” Geoff manages to ask. Gavin opens his mouth to answer, but realises he really doesn’t have a good one. He looks to Ryan helplessly.

“10 months, and about a week and a half,” Ryan provides. He must catch Geoff’s sputter. “Uh, give or take.” Geoff is silent for a very long time at this, glaring back and forth between the two of them while Jack tries to stifle further laughter.

Gavin expects a lot of things from this. He expects Geoff to just kick Ryan out – maybe not out of the Crew, but definitely out of the penthouse. He expects Geoff to growl and yell some more, to call him dumb, call Ryan psychotic. He expects Jack to get a verbal berating for not taking this more seriously. What he doesn’t expect at all is Geoff huffing and pointing at them, and snapping, “Put a fucking sock on the doorknob next time, Christ,” and turning and stomping away.

Ryan ducks his head to hide his smile, and moves to apply cream to Gavin’s elbows next. Jack manages to compose herself, and crosses her arms. “Give him five minutes and then go find him in his office, Ryan. He’ll remember shortly he actually does still have a job for you.” Then she winks at Gavin, and leaves, closing the door behind her.

It takes Gavin an hour before he can really appreciate that Ryan is still alive.

It takes less than half as long for the entire penthouse to hear the story.

 

\--- --- ---

 

The thing about parties is that the tone will inevitably change, and rather than everyone politely chatting and eating, the music will get louder and people will move to the edges of the room to open up the floor, and people will start dancing. Gavin has always found this terrifically interesting, because it happens _every time_ , even at these ‘stuffy mob-boss’ parties. Friendly crews laugh and dance and move together, rival crews forgive the dancing sins of the others when they’ve never forgiven each other anything else.

The thing about Gavin is that he _hates_ dancing.

Ryan, though – Ryan’s eyes light up the moment the first few notes of something slow start playing, and Gavin is shaking his head even before Ryan has the chance to stand and extend his hand to him. “Oh, come on,” Ryan insists while Gavin stares at his hand, still shaking his head. “Don’t tell me you _still_ don’t dance?”

Gavin wants to refuse. He doesn’t want to move to the floor where the whole room can see him and judge him when he’s out of his element, when he’s not completely in control of the situation. But more than anything, he doesn’t want to turn Ryan off him now, not when the night has been going so well. Trembling, Gavin reaches his own hand out to take Ryan’s, and Ryan beams.

He leads Gavin right into the middle of the floor, surrounded by couples dancing themselves. Too late Gavin realises he’s being dragged past Jack and spends an uncomfortably long moment with their eyes locked. She grins and gives him a thumbs up and he feels his face start to burn, so hunches his shoulders and drops his head to follow Ryan more quickly. Ryan graciously doesn’t mention his red face – surely clashing with his gold tie – when he stops and turns to face him. Instead, he slips his second hand immediately around Gavin’s waist and waits.

In a way, Gavin is glad, because Ryan is clearly taking control and Gavin has years of experience in letting him, and trusting him to do it. He lifts his own hand to rest on Ryan’s shoulder, and smoothly Ryan leads them both into steps, soft turns as they move. For a short time, they stay silent, concentrating on the movement and, for Gavin’s part, relishing the feel of Ryan around him. Eventually, though, the silence would become awkward, and Ryan breaks it before it can. “So,” he says, “I’ve babbled enough about what I’ve been doing. Tell me how the Crew are, how’s everyone doing?”

Gavin finds himself having to think rather quickly, actually, because for the most part he’s been trying to push the others out of his mind completely tonight, focusing all attention on Ryan and _them, together_. He thinks about locking eyes with Jack and how good she looks tonight, and stutters out, “J-Jack is great, obviously. Jack is always great. She’s loosened up a lot, recently, with the Crew kind of, you know, finally righting itself again.” _After you left_ , Gavin doesn’t need to add.

Ryan smiles and nods, encouraging him to continue. Gavin swallows, lets himself take in those bright blue eye for a moment. “Geoff is… Well, Geoff is still an arsehole.” Ryan chuckles, deep in his chest. Gavin has missed that. “But he’s so much better now that Lindsay is really in charge of the day-to-days. Focuses way more of his energy on cool big things, new projects for us all to do and stuff.”

“Michael?”

“He’s got his own stuff going now, too,” Gavin shrugs. “Geoff got a couple of things to do and bunged ‘em to Michael, and you know Michael – has to one-up Geoff whenever he can, so yeah, he’s doing well.”

“And how’s Mica doing, now she’s an official member?” Ryan asks, and Gavin freezes, and narrows his eyes. Ryan allows this for only a moment before he’s pulling Gavin back into the steps of the dance. Gavin glares at him.

“How d’you know about _that_ , Ryan?” he hisses. Ryan smiles – _easy, honest_.

“I’m still part of this world, Gav. People talk, you know that. Everyone knows everyone and everything, and when people find out I was a part of Fake AH Crew, they like to boast about knowing things. It’s all very convenient for finding information.”

Gavin glares for a while longer, taking everything in. Ryan’s hands are steady, his palms dry. He’s meeting Gavin’s eyes easily and his breathing is regular. Ryan has always been terrible at lying to Gavin, and he’s not trying it now. Slowly, Gavin lets his muscles and fingers relax. “Hasn’t exactly been announced,” he mutters, and Ryan shrugs.

“Well, what about you?” Ryan asks. “What are your plans after tonight?”

Gavin snorts. “You’re having a laugh.”

“I’m not—I’m not asking about _work_ , I mean, personally. Just, in general,” Ryan clarifies, but it’s more an easy sidestep and less a rushed reassurance. Gavin shrugs.

“Might go back to England for a few days?” He chews his lip for a second and glances away. “Unless something pops up to keep me here.” He tries to strangle the sound of hope in his throat before it can colour his voice. “You?”

Ryan doesn’t answer for a moment, and Gavin glances up to see him watching him, brow wrinkled just a tad, head cocked slightly to the side. _Confusion, surprise_. Gavin is about to ask him what’s wrong when his face smooths out into a mask. _Hiding something_. “Well, I’d been entertaining the thought of going back to college,” Ryan answers, and Gavin’s ears start fuzzing. “I applied for Cornell in New York,” and Gavin can’t hear him.

 _New York_ , _other side of the bloody country_. His blood is cold as ice running through his veins, freezing his hands locked on Ryan and making his movements stuttery and stiff. Vaguely he feels like he’s dizzy and floating just left of his own head. _Other side…New York…_ And Gavin can’t quite ground himself, because he’d thought the night was going really, _really_ well, and now Ryan is telling him that he’s leaving and moving _clear across the damn country_ , and Gavin can barely move let alone tell him not to go, ask him to stay, _beg him to stay if that’s what it takes_.

“Gavin? Gavin?” Something pats the small of his back and whatever is keeping him floating shudders and snaps back, and the thing patting him is Ryan’s hand, and _Christ_ , he might have forgotten to breathe, there. “You okay? You’re trembling.”

Gavin forces a laugh, and it sounds high pitched and panicky. _Calm, I’m calm, I’m completely calm._ “It’s just damn cold in here, isn’t it?” He forces another laugh, more breath than sound. “You said Cornell? That’s one of the good ones, yeah? One of the…one of the really good ones. That’s…that’s good.” _Not shaking. I’m in control. Never rattled, always in perfect control._

“Yeah,” Ryan answers, but it sounds concerned.

And the worst part is that Gavin isn’t really that surprised, because Ryan already left him but now he can surrender from the battle and just leave the whole city, and Gavin can’t find it in himself to blame him.

 

\--- --- ---

 

“Gavin, for _fuck’s sake_ , it’s not hard--”

“Ryan, it’s a fifty-fifty chance, Ryan!”

Off to the side, Geoff groans and thumps his head down on the table, Michael is yelling for Gavin to shut the fuck up, but Gavin’s face is red and he can hardly breathe for laughing and arguing.

“Gavin--”

“No, Ryan--”

Jack shakes her head and picks up her cereal to leave the kitchen. Softly, Geoff starts thumping his head on the table again and again.

“Gavin, _shut up_ , if there’s three fucking doors, and you pick door A, and the host opens door C to reveal the goat, _you’re statistically more likely to find the car if you swap to door B_.”

“But it _changes_ when they open the door, and now it’s a fifty-fifty chance regardless.” Geoff’s head thumping gets louder and Ryan starts muttering and drawing lines on a piece of paper Jack had passed him earlier. When he’s done, he shoves it across the table to Gavin, who picks it up. Slowly, Gavin figures out he’s been wrong this whole time, and glances up to Ryan, who looks altogether too smug. “Well, it’s a different question, then, isn’t it?” Gavin says easily, slipping the paper back onto the table. Simultaneously Geoff and Michael groan, but Ryan starts chuckling and pushes his chair back to stand.

“You’re full of shit,” Ryan tells him, but it’s warm, and he kisses the top of Gavin’s head on his way out of the kitchen.

Things have been going exceptionally well, Gavin has to admit, in the weeks since he and Ryan had been discovered. There’s no more hiding, no more jumping apart when someone enters a room, no need to sneak out of bedrooms in the morning. Ryan kisses him when he enters any room Gavin is in, Gavin grows bolder slipping his hands under Ryan’s shirt or waistband to feel skin. Ryan’s posture shifts and he’s more relaxed, and Gavin stops bothering the rest of the Crew with annoying questions and comments when he can jokingly direct them to Ryan instead.

Whenever Gavin wants to find him, Ryan can be found in the garage, tinkering with his motorbike for hours. One day Gavin asks if they can go on a ride and Ryan grabs his car keys. When Gavin clarifies, Ryan laughs. “I barely let you near my baby without a ten-foot pole, Gav,” he replies. “No fucking way are you ever going to touch her.” But they do go out in Ryan’s car instead, and they fuck in the back seat, and Gavin is filled with so much warmth whenever Ryan looks at him or touches him that he figures he can at least have the bike all to himself. Gavin is a man of sacrifices when it comes to Ryan.

Naturally, Gavin fucks it all up.

The itch grows. He can feel it tickling under his skin, forcing little goosebumps out on his arms and making his hair rise. It swells up from his belly to his chest, threatening to suffocate him, making him want to scream, but he thinks if he starts he won’t stop. He stares at Ryan’s nails across the room while they’re in meetings, imagining them digging in to his skin and tearing the itch straight out. He swipes his tongue over Ryan’s teeth, and hopes Ryan will bite down, or will scrape them down his shoulder or chest, let the itch ooze out that way.

Ryan likes to hold him down, keep him still while they’re in bed – wrists pinned and hips attached and ankles locked – but Gavin wants to move, _needs_ the struggle and the writhing and the fight and Ryan giving in while Gavin makes it seem the other way around. More and more he feels himself losing that control, and the itch builds and builds until Gavin can barely stand it.

“I smashed your computer,” Gavin says breathily while Ryan nibbles his ear lobe.

“No you didn’t,” Ryan answers, moving down to lick a nipple.

“I sent your files to the LSPD,” Gavin snips around Ryan’s tongue another day.

“Geoff would have already fired you,” Ryan counters.

A third attempt, “I fucked Michael while you were away,” and this time Ryan does glare at him, but it’s not the right kind of heat.

“As if he would, and as if Lindsay would let your body be found.”

Gavin needs something big, something real, something to make Ryan snarl and fight him, bite his name across Gavin’s chest and leave fingernail-shaped scars on his thighs and keep him in bed for a week.

Gavin sells Ryan’s motorbike.

He announces it one night when the Crew is on downtime, all hanging out together in the penthouse living room. Michael and Jeremy are furiously fighting for a Mario Party win with Lindsay and Ray. Jack and Geoff are drinking a beer each and chatting about a movie or a show they’d both happened to watch recently. Ryan and Gavin are sprawled on the couch – Gavin easily taking most of it – and Gavin tells him what he’s done while Ryan is reading.

It’s loud enough that anyone could hear if they were paying attention, but only Ryan looks up at him, an eyebrow raised. He clearly doesn’t believe him, but Gavin has schooled his face neutral rather than the grin and eyebrow waggle he normally puts on when he’s trying to convince Ryan of something like this, and slowly Ryan’s body tightens – _anger_. No, _fury_. The rest of the room only really starts noticing when Ryan hisses, “Fucking _seriously_?” and jerks up from the couch to storm off towards elevator to the garage.

“What’s up with him?” Geoff asks. Gavin shrugs.

“I sold his bike.”

“Wow,” Michael says. “You are an asshole.” Geoff doesn’t look like he knows what to say, but he is turning a little pale.

“Oh, Gavin,” Jack murmurs, disapproval thick while she shakes her head.

“What?” Gavin asks. “Just a casual joke, he’ll be back in a second.”

But Ryan doesn’t come back in a second, or a minute, or even three minutes. The silence in the living room stretches longer – a juxtaposition with the jaunty music still coming from the Wii – and Gavin starts fidgeting with the awkwardness of it all.

“You fucked up,” Geoff announces finally, and Gavin’s face burns.

“I better…” He clears his throat. “I better go find him,” he whispers, and jumps off the couch to go after Ryan.

Ryan isn’t in the garage. There’s a conspicuously empty space where Ryan’s motorbike used to be, and a wheeled metal cabinet has been overturned, spilling its tools across the concrete floor. Gavin spends ten minutes picking it all back up – if Michael could see him he’d never believe it – before heading back up in the elevator.

The conversation from the living room is subdued, but even if it wasn’t Gavin isn’t sure he could stand to step back in there right now. He instead turns down the corridor and walks down to stand in front of Ryan’s door – closed, and no doubt locked. He stands there for a good five minutes before shakily reaching his hand out and knocking. Completely expectedly, there is no answer. He waits a few seconds, and knocks again, and leans in to stick his ear against the wood. “Rye?” he calls softly. Still nothing. “Ryan, can I come in?” He can’t even hear movement, and can’t decide if he thinks Ryan is more likely to be just standing there, stiff in the middle of the room, or buried in bed. He pulls away from the door and tries the handle, but of course, as expected, it’s locked.

He makes it all the way to his own room and back with his lockpicks, but when kneels down and tries to insert the first tool he finds Ryan has shoved a wire or something into the hole from the other side, stopping it from being picked at all. Vaguely, Gavin is kind of impressed that Ryan thought that far ahead. He stands and knocks again. “Rye, come on, let me in.” No answer. “Alright,” he says, sounding more confident and put together than he feels. “I’ll wait in my room, then, and you can come by when you’re ready.” And, true to his word, he turns and goes to his own room, and waits.

Years of long-term jobs and catching sleep wherever they can find it has trained Gavin to be able to fall asleep almost anywhere and under most conditions. Purely by the virtue of lying still, Gavin eventually falls asleep, and only wakes up again when the sun is high and he can hear movement down the corridor. He’s up and out of his room in a flash, hurrying down to Ryan’s room, but when he gets there it’s just Geoff, standing in the middle and looking around hopelessly. The furniture is all there, but the books, the computer, the notes and pens, the spare Xbox controller and photos are all gone.

“What…?” Gavin starts, and Geoff whirls.

“He quit this morning,” Geoff snaps, hopelessness all gone and now finding a way to channel anger to someone instead. “Didn’t explicitly say why, but I could probably take a goddamn guess.” Gavin doesn’t know exactly when Geoff’s concern swapped from _Gavin being taken advantage of,_ to _Ryan being hurt and leaving_ , but he does have a sneaking suspicion that it was somewhere around the time Gavin decided to break up the Fake AH Family.

“It’s not _my_ fault!” Gavin snaps back, but they both know that’s not true. “Ryan is being a mingey little prick about it, that’s all him!”

Geoff points at him. “ _You_ fucked up. What the fuck were you thinking, selling his bike?”

Gavin crosses his arms – _sulking_ , he thinks to himself, and wishes he could turn that voice off, just for now. “I’m tracking it. I was going to buy it back.” Geoff just stares at him. “It was just… It was a thing we did, I liked…” His face is burning, and Geoff frowns.

“Gav, did you ever think to _ask_ him to do that stuff to you?”

And of course he hadn’t, because that would have meant _actually_ handing control to Ryan and Gavin had in no way been ready for that, to offer that choice up to Ryan, to lay himself bare and let Ryan decide whether to allow it. Then of course, slowly, Gavin starts to realise that he’d already been doing that, by trying to tease and pick at Ryan until he would break, except lately Ryan _hadn’t_ been breaking, and maybe Gavin should have been asking all along.

Geoff sighs heavily, the silence from Gavin really saying everything that isn’t being verbally expressed, and moves past him to the door. And Gavin is left in this empty room, feeling just as empty, and thinking now that he’d never really thought about what his life might be like without Ryan in it anymore, and how desperately he wishes it was different.

 

\--- --- ---

 

Gavin manages to pull himself together by the time the music stops and the lights start getting brighter. Ryan has picked up on Gavin’s minor panicked moment, and it’s yet _another_ credit to him that instead of questioning him, or mentioning it, Ryan just changes the topic to funny shared memories and light-hearted chatting.

They’ve moved back to the side of the room, clearing space for the people leaving, when Geoff walks up. Ryan takes a step back from Gavin and turns to face Geoff head on, and nods a greeting when Geoff does. “Ryan.”

“Geoff.”

For two men who haven’t seen each other since Ryan quit, they’re handling it quite well, Gavin thinks. Certainly better than Gavin has handled anything tonight. Geoff looks him over for a moment, and then turns to Gavin. “Time to go,” he says, and there’s a hint of softness barely concealed in his voice. He might actually be honestly sorry to be pulling Gavin away.

Gavin, for his part, startles, and glances back to Ryan. Ryan is standing easily, one hand slipped into a pocket. Gavin lets himself get lost in those eyes again, just for a second, before he nods to Geoff. “Oh. Okay.” He looks back to Ryan. “I guess we’re going, sorry.”

Ryan smiles, and it’s open and honest. “Guess so. Look, I had a great night. Sorry I kept you from, you know, all of this,” and he waves his free hand vaguely towards the room.

“It was top,” Gavin answers back quickly. There’s a pause, now, both waiting for the other to speak again. Gavin badly wants to blurt everything that hadn’t come up in conversation over the evening, but Geoff is right there. He wants to apologise a million times, wants to beg Ryan to forgive him, to come back, wants to tell him how he’d spent months locked in his room and buried in a hoodie, or wrapped around a shirt Ryan hadn’t taken from Gavin’s room on the night he’d left. Gavin wants to tell him how lost he’s been, how work just doesn’t give the same thrill it did before, or how Gavin hasn’t really felt in control of anything since, and how he doesn’t even care about that if only Ryan is the one to take over for him again.

“Well, I’ll see you around,” Ryan finally says, smiling, and Gavin can only nod and watch him turn and walk away.

“Come on,” Geoff says, not unkindly, and starts steering Gavin towards the exit. Somehow, Gavin feels even more empty than before. They’re out of the ballroom when Geoff asks, “So, how did it go?”

“Good,” Gavin answers absently. “Really good. It was a fun night.” His heart isn’t in it, though, and he knows Geoff can tell. _I’ll see you around_ , Ryan had said, and maybe he would, Gavin thinks. Maybe they’ll both somehow meet each other in the middle of their own jobs, and they’ll politely smile and wave and laugh at in-jokes, and then they’ll part and just _see each other around_. And that’s more than Gavin has had since Ryan left.

But that’s not what Gavin had come here for, tonight. Gavin had wanted Ryan to see him in his black and gold glory, in command of himself and the room. Classic Gavin, the way he’d been when he’d cornered Ryan in the garage and then messed with his computer. But Gavin isn’t like that anymore, not after everything. And it’s just now that he thinks, that’s okay, because Ryan isn’t the same either, because they’d changed together and Gavin wants to _keep_ changing together.

He’d come tonight to get Ryan back, and he’s not leaving without him.

“I have to go,” Gavin blurts out, sticking a hand out to stop Geoff from walking them both further away.

“What?” Geoff asks, but Gavin is already starting backwards, waving his hands.

“I have to go! Don’t wait for me!” and then he’s running back for the ballroom, back up all the steps he and Geoff had just walked down. There are hardly any people in here, now that the evening is officially over and all the music is off. Gavin can’t even find it in himself to be worried about what they think of him, panting from his sprint and looking around wildly. Ryan isn’t there. But Gavin knows he’s stressed and worried and hopes Ryan is, too, and he knows that when Ryan is stressed he either drinks an obscene amount of Diet Coke, or he smokes. Gavin whips his head to the balcony, and sees Ryan through the doorway.

He walks through to him.

Ryan turns in surprise. “Gav?” he asks, butting out his cigarette.

“Take cover, love,” he says by way of answer, because Gavin is about to let everything go and he’s not going to stop. Ryan raises an eyebrow. Gavin’s voice catches, and the accusation comes out croaky, “ _You_ left.” Ryan’s second eyebrow shoots upwards to match his first.

“You sold my _motorbike_ ,” Ryan counters. “You knew how important it was to me, and you _sold_ _it_.”

“You weren’t treating me the same,” Gavin snaps. “You stopped doing things I liked and didn’t even _pretend_ anymore.”

Ryan opens his arms helplessly. “You never even _asked_. You never _told me_ when you needed or wanted it, you just wheedled at me until I got mad enough to do it. We were together a _year_ Gavin, you could have asked me for anything and I’d have done it.”

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” Gavin yells, and it’s raspy and desperate. “I’m sorry. Ryan, please, if I could change any of it I would, I _would_ , _I’m sorry_. I just can’t handle this anymore. I bollocksed it all up, fully, and I wish I hadn’t but I did and I’m just… _I’m sorry_.”

Ryan doesn’t answer, this time, just looks at Gavin shaking and broken and not in control of anything anymore, least of all himself, and slowly, miraculously, Ryan reaches out and takes firm hold of Gavin’s wrist, and then starts walking, dragging Gavin behind him.

“Rye, where--”

“Hotel room, upstairs.” Gavin’s brain stalls and he doesn’t say another word, just lets himself be dragged up staircase after staircase until Ryan is unlocking a door with a key card and gently shoving him inside the room. Ryan locks the door behind them and is on Gavin in a flash, hand carding roughly through Gavin’s hair to cup the back of his head, knocking his sunglasses to the floor, and pulling him forward into a kiss.

 _Christ_ , it’s like Gavin had been starved. His hands tangle in Ryan’s suit jacket, pulling himself in closer, and the touch of tongue-on-tongue shoots heat straight to Gavin’s gut. Vaguely he thinks he’s grinding against Ryan’s thigh, but Ryan doesn’t stop him. Somehow Gavin manages to pull his own hands away to roll his jacket off his shoulders and let it slip to the floor, and yank off his tie to throw it aside. Ryan even lets him shove his jacket off too, pulling his hand from Gavin’s head to slip his arms free. Then, naturally, he pulls away completely.

“Rye,” Gavin groans, moving in again, but Ryan stops him with a palm against his chest.

“Tell me what you want, Gav,” Ryan says lowly, voice gravelly – _lust, thank Christ, that’s lust_. Gavin opens his mouth – partly to draw in air, partly to breathe – but has to close it to swallow before he can try again.

“Want _you_ ,” Gavin answers shaking his head. “Whatever you want, however you want, that’s what _I want_.” And it’s completely true. There will be days after days where Gavin wants to be in control, completely. There will be days where he wants to pretend to give that control up. But there will also be days where he wants Ryan to pick the pace, to take the reins. They’ve both grown, Gavin thinks – he from the Golden Boy who puppeteered everything and everyone at every time, and Ryan from The Vagabond who needed to give up control to prove his humanity to himself – and the mix of both of those in both their lives is what makes this work.

Ryan leans in to his ear. “Will you tell me if you want more, when you want more?” Gavin groans and nods his head, brushing his ear on Ryan’s lips. “Then get on the bed,” Ryan whispers, and Gavin almost jumps to obey. Ryan stalks after him the way Gavin assumes a panther stalks its prey – easily, muscles in perfect balance and control, a dangerous and hungry glint in his eyes – and Gavin shivers in anticipation. When Ryan crawls onto the bed to straddle Gavin’s waist he lets himself arch his back to lift his hips, just a little, and then contents himself with kneading his fingertips on Ryan’s thighs while Ryan starts unbuttoning his shirt for him.

“Dressed to impress tonight, Gav,” Ryan murmurs appreciatively, pausing his unbuttoning to scratch his nails through Gavin’s chest hair and over a nipple. Gavin grins and winks – Ryan snorts – and reaches out to start on Ryan’s shirt in turn. He doesn’t bother sitting up to take his shirt off when Ryan has finished unbuttoning – in part because Ryan’s position somewhat prevents it, but also because it lets Gavin wriggle and rock his hips up as part of the process to remove it flat on his back.

He’s expecting a little play, maybe some over-the-clothes groping, but Ryan moves straight to stripping them both, shifting down the bed to pull off the rest of their clothes. Then Gavin thinks maybe there’ll be some fondling now, but Ryan just sits back and twirls his fingers in a circle. “Roll over,” he orders. “On your knees.” And, okay, it _has_ been awhile, Gavin thinks while he obeys and sinks his front half down onto his arms, hips in the air. He doesn’t really mind if they get straight to it tonight, but then Ryan is right up close, leaning over him and kissing his shoulder blades and ghosting his lips down his spine.

Gavin only realises what’s going on when Ryan’s hands grip his arse and squeeze the cheeks, spreading them apart, and when he can feel Ryan’s breath, hot and damp, puffing over his hole. He groans and twists his head into his forearm. “Come back,” Ryan tells him. “I want to hear you.” It’s a monumental effort, whole body already trembling, but Gavin does as he’s told.

Only moments later he’s rewarded when Ryan takes hold of his cock from between his thighs, and licks a long stripe up the underside, over Gavin’s balls, and up to swipe over his hole. “ _Fuck,”_ Gavin chokes out, and he can hear Ryan chuckle behind him.

“Yeah?” Ryan asks, and there’s so much in that one word – is this okay, did it feel that good, should I keep going?

Gavin nods, really just a little hitch of his face over his arm and back. “Yeah.” Ryan hums – _pleased_ – and leans back in to go again. Gavin can feel every movement of Ryan’s tongue – the flat swipes over the top, the tip as it swirls and teases, more of it when Ryan dips it inside him – all hot and wet and soft and _good_. Gavin’s fingers scrabble in the sheets, his cheek rubbing against his arm, eyes squeezed shut while he gasps and moans and tries to push himself back further into Ryan’s face.

The real problem here is that Gavin hasn’t been with anyone else since Ryan left, just his own hand. It’s nowhere near the same, he’d always known that, but while Ryan licks and sucks Gavin gets harder and harder, hips hitching and breath catching around little broken sounds and syllables falling from his own lips. And suddenly Gavin feels himself right on the edge and he desperately has to try to pull his hips away, crying, “Rye, Rye, _stop, please_.” Immediately, Ryan pulls away.

“What’s wrong?” Ryan asks, all panic and worry, and Gavin feels his chest tighten in embarrassment.

“I… I was going to come, it was too soon…”

Slowly, Ryan grins. “Well, that’s flattering. You should do that,” he says back, and gives no real warning before licking into Gavin again. And all too soon, with Ryan’s tongue pulsing into and out of him, Gavin feels himself return to the edge, teeter on it, and desperately tumble over, coming onto the sheets below him with a sharp exhale. He feels Ryan pull away while his entire body trembles and his vision is fuzzy, and wants to call him back but can’t find his voice.

Ryan does come back, though, this time with slick fingers, and while Gavin takes near ten minutes to even properly regain his breath Ryan starts fingering him open, stretching and slicking him up until three of his fingers slide in and out without resistance. And just as slowly Gavin feels himself finally hardening again, and pushes his hips back hard onto Ryan’s fingers to try and make him go faster, but of course Ryan moves at his own pace and only takes hold of his own cock when he’s good and ready. And then Ryan grabs one of Gavin’s hips, just to keep him still, and presses his cock into Gavin easily.

Gavin clenches his muscles and feels Ryan respond with a short forward jerk, and then there’s Ryan’s other hand taking hold of his hips too, not nearly hard enough to bruise. Finally, _finally_ , Ryan’s hips start to move, slow and smooth and even, and Gavin feels every slide and hitch. He tries to move too, to encourage a faster and harder pace, but Ryan’s hands keep him still. It feels like teasing, and it’s almost too much.

“Ryan, Rye, _please, Rye_ ,” Gavin finds himself babbling, and although Ryan laughs breathily, miraculously he slides one hand under to grab Gavin’s cock and starts stroking it at the same time that he gives a few short, sharp, hard snaps of his hips. Gavin actually feels himself spasm when he comes again, hears himself yell, hears Ryan groan when all of Gavin’s muscles inside contract around him. Ryan keeps a hold on him, keeps fucking him nice and hard, and Gavin can hear his breath grow ragged and feels Ryan’s nails start to cut into his hips, a tell-tale sign he’s close.

Just when Gavin is expecting to feel wet heat inside himself though, Ryan pulls himself out and away, and roughly pulls Gavin up to flip him onto his back. And okay, maybe Ryan wants to look at his face while he fucks him, now, except when Ryan pins him down he doesn’t slide back into him, but rather starts quickly jerking himself off. And red-faced, sweaty, and open-mouthed, Ryan finally comes too, splattering over Gavin’s stomach and chest with a gasp of his own.

Moments later he’s leaning down – both of them barely able to breathe – and kissing Gavin firmly. Gavin responds hungrily, and Ryan hovers over him while they catch their breaths and their hearts slow.

Gavin’s eyes are closed when Ryan moves off the bed, and he opens them a few seconds later to see Ryan coming back with a damp cloth. Gavin lets him clean off his chest and stomach, and then lets him roll him onto his stomach to clean his back where he’d been flipped into his own come. Carefully, he turns his head to the side and very quietly murmurs, “Come back to the Fake AH Crew.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Gavin keenly regrets asking because now it’s just made it so much worse for himself when Ryan turns him down, his heart might actually shatter now, except softly Ryan is laughing. Gavin twists his head to look over his shoulder. “Can’t believe he didn’t tell you,” Ryan chuckles, and Gavin’s brow furrows. “Geoff asked me last week.”

“ _What?_ ” Gavin demands, shoving himself to his knees and staring at Ryan half-kneeling on the mattress beside him, one foot planted firmly on the floor.

“Yeah, came by my place and asked me to come back. Obviously I told him yes.” Gavin just gapes, and Ryan starts laughing harder. “No wonder you looked so surprised to see me tonight, Jesus.” And everything kind of slots into place, now – Ryan’s confusion about Gavin not having expected him to show, how he and Geoff hadn’t seem bothered to see each other, how he had only _planned_ to go to Cornell but something had apparently stopped that plan, and this is clearly it.

“I’m going to damn kill him,” Gavin squawks, and moves to get off the bed to dress and go do exactly that, but Ryan stops him by kissing him warmly.

“He said you were _miserable_ without me,” Ryan teases. Gavin doesn’t deny it. Ryan leans in to kiss him again. “I missed you, too,” he whispers, and slowly, very slowly, Gavin smiles.


End file.
